


Physical Therapy

by kelbivdevoe



Category: Gangsta. (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Double Penetration, Established Relationship, F/M, Insecurity, Nicolas Brown is a sexual caveman, Polygamy, Porn with Feelings, Reader-Insert, sharing is caring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 23:36:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11001363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelbivdevoe/pseuds/kelbivdevoe
Summary: Your Benriya boyfriends lend a hand (or two or four) when you're feeling insecure.





	Physical Therapy

**Author's Note:**

> HEY EVERYONE DID CHAPTER 43 WANT TO MAKE YOU DIE AS MUCH AS I DID
> 
> This is feel good fluff-porn. I think we all need it.
> 
> Beta by the wonderful and super-talented [quassia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quassia/pseuds/quassia)!

You peer around the corner of the stairwell, making eye contact with Nicolas. He’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, doing curls with an ancient looking dumbbell like it’s made of styrofoam. Your eye catches on the number stamped on the round metal end: _50 kg._

_Hot_ , you think, and _fucking terrifying._

He raises an eyebrow, facial expression simultaneously inviting you in and asking what the fuck you’re doing. His dark hair is damp and plastered to the side of his head, the front of his grey tank top darkened with sweat. He’s obviously been working out for a while but shows no sign of fatigue, one of the few perks of life as a Twilight.

You straighten up and fully enter the room, smiling a little as both Nicolas’ eyebrows rise at the sight of your workout attire. The woman at the clothing store had insisted that these yoga pants—no, ‘technical athletic apparel’, her words—were the best on the market, designed to make you reach your full potential.

Also grossly expensive. You figured that investing in these would make you a little more motivated to actually use them, but it’s hard not to think about how comfortable these would be if you took a nap in them.

“Can I…work out with you?” You ask, moving your lips carefully to articulate every word. Your sign language is still novice at best, so you mostly stick to lip reading, but daily lessons with Nina are improving it slowly.

Nicolas lowers the dumbbell to the floor, eyebrows still raised, but this time he’s smiling. He climbs to his feet, stretching like a cat.

“YoU…ExErCisE?” He rasps, snickering as you pick up his towel from the floor and toss it at his head.

You’re mid-turn to go back upstairs before he closes one large hand around your arm, still grinning, and pulls you back against his hard chest.

“DoN’T bE mAd.”

There really is no point in getting mad at Nicolas. He either doesn’t notice or continues going about his daily life until you finally give into talking to him again.

“JuSt DoN’t WaNt YoU tO lOsE tHis.” He punctuates his sentence with a squeeze to your rear, making you jump slightly, face going red.

“Shut up and help me,” You mutter, trying not to look pleased.

He lets you go and kneels down on the floor, beckoning for you to come down with a swipe of his hand.

“SiT-UpS.”

You nod and settle down on the floor, laying back and crossing your arms over your chest as Nicolas closes his hands over your feet, anchoring you to the floor.

“FiFtY.”

“What?! Nic—“

“YoU wAnTeD tO wOrK oUt.”

“…you’re not going to go easy on me, are you?”

He shakes his head, flashing a shark-like smile.

xxx

Your workout montage with Nicolas is less Million Dollar Baby and more Hundred Dollar Baby. It’d taken 40 minutes to get through 20 sit ups, not counting the 15 minutes of crying. You managed to get through 2 pushups, partially because you have the upper body strength of a toddler.

Currently, he’s trying to get you to do something called a burpee that looks both painful and stupid, while you’re lying on the floor, trying to get the muscles in your entire body to stop screaming.

“Up,” He insists, poking you in the side with his toes, looking far more amused than he has any right to be.

The sound of a door closing comes from upstairs, signaling Worick’s return home from his usual Wednesday job. You can hear his footsteps upstairs; he’s probably looking for the both of you, unaware you’re stuck in a nightmare with the deaf male Jillian Michaels.

“Hmm? What’re you doing down there?” Worick calls down the stairs, appearing in a cloud of strong smelling perfume. You and Nicolas wrinkle your noses in tandem, momentarily forgetting about the task at hand.

“Working out,” Nicolas signs to Worick, giving you another poke in the side with his foot. “Or at least attempting to.”

“Save me,” You whine, grabbing onto the hem of Worick’s pants leg and giving it a weak tug.

“You broke her.” Worick signs back with shake of his head, leaning over and pushing the damp strands of hair away from your face. He looks tired, but his good eye is shining. “I think we all need a bath.” He decides, and it’s the best idea you’ve ever heard.

xxx

  
The bath water is almost blisteringly hot, but it feels too good against your sore muscles to complain. It’s a miracle the three of you can even fit inside, but a little rearranging of limbs leads to a pretty comfortable position. Nicolas and Worick are leaning against either side of the bathtub, legs bent to accommodate some space for you in the middle.

“So,” Worick begins, palming a handful of pale hair away from his face and fixing you with a curious look. “What inspired this new workout plan?”

You’re sitting in a bathtub surrounded by pure muscle and he wants to know why you felt the need to exercise. Worick is undeniably gifted when it comes to the ways of women, but sometimes he still has no idea.

“I just wanted to…I dunno, keep up with you and Nico, I guess,” You explain slowly, sliding your fingers absently through the water. Nicolas has his head tilted back and his eyes closed, unaware of the conversation.

“Keep up?” Worick repeats quizzically. The heat from the bath has flushed his cheeks a bright pink. “Why?”

You hum thoughtfully, leaning closer to him.

“I can think of…” You count his abdominal muscles out loud, touching each one with the tip of your finger, before turning to Nicolas and doing the same. He lifts his head and opens one eye, watching you lazily, not questioning it. “Twelve reasons, just off the top of my head.”

Worick gives you that look, the one that says ‘you’re being silly’ in the most affectionate way possible.

“I have to stay in shape for my job,” He sighs, looking (daresay) annoyed about the fact he literally fucks other women for money.

That’s another one of the reasons, although you’d never admit it to him. You’ve seen him get dropped off occasionally after a job by these women that have nothing but free time and their husband’s credit card. Women who feel comfortable changing the things about themselves they don’t like, ironically making them all look alike in the end. Cheeks, lips, noses, chests, designed by a doctor for maximum attractiveness. How can you not feel pressured when your boyfriend is having sex with women who look like they were created in a lab by Russian scientists for the sole purpose of seduction?

You’ve gone quiet so he pulls you against his chest, wrapping his long arms around you. You tuck your face against his neck; the smell of perfume is gone and you inhale the scent of his clean skin.

“I don’t have a choice when it comes to them,” He says quietly, rubbing your damp skin slowly with his fingers. “But I’d choose you every time.” He tilts up your chin, his one good eye focused on yours. No bullshit. “Exactly the way you are.”

Your heart swells in your chest and you press your lips against his; he smiles against your mouth, kissing you back warmly.

“Start believing it or I’m going to start singing to prove my point.”

He breaks into a beautifully off-key rendition of Billy Joel’s Just the Way You Are and you can’t help but laugh, covering his mouth with your hands.

“Even I know your voice sounds like shit,” Nicolas signs from across the tub, and Worick sends a handful of water splashing against his face. He grimaces and rubs the water out of his eyes before turning his attention to you.

He beckons you over and you shift to his side of the bathtub, leaning slightly against his smaller frame. His expression is neutral as always, but when he noses affectionately into your temple you know he was paying attention to the conversation.

“BeAuTiFuL,” He grates into your ear, and your whole body goes warm.

xxx

  
It’s past midnight by the time the three of you get out of the bath, the water tepid after almost an hour. Worick is stretched out, reading, on one of the couches in the living area in a loose pair of sweats, hair pulled up into a loose ponytail at the back of his head. You’re using the tiny mirror hung on the wall to brush out your damp hair, holding your towel around your body tightly with your free hand.

“Are you going to bed soon, Worick?” You ask, looking as Nicolas pads into the room, signing something to his partner. You see him smirking at you in the mirror, propping his head up with his palm.

“Mm, not quite yet…” He murmurs, before you can register the sound of Nick’s knees hitting the floor behind you and his large hands pushing up the back of your towel.

You let out a sharp gasp as he buries his face in your pussy with a muffled growl, dragging his tongue up the folds of flesh as his hands grab your ass and spread you wider.

The hairbrush clatters to the floor as you catch yourself against the wall with one hand, the other gripping the front of your towel for dear life. You whimper as Nick’s tongue laps at you hungrily, brushing your clit with every swipe. What he lacks in technique, he makes up for in intensity; he moans against your pussy as he devours you.

You forgo your grip on the towel to slide your hand back into Nicolas’ dark hair, gripping it slightly in encouragement. He’ll never be able to hear the sounds you’re making, so you’ve learned to show your enjoyment in physical ways—not that either of you mind. The bestial growl that escapes his mouth as you tug his hair is proof enough of that.

A moan escapes your mouth as you feel Nick’s tongue push inside of you, and for the first time you make eye contact with Worick in the mirror in front of you. He’s still on the couch, palming himself absently through the material of his pants, book forgotten on the floor. You bite down on your lower lip and he smiles, tilting his head, silently inviting you over.

“Nick…” You breathe, pulling away slightly and making him growl. He looks up with half-lidded eyes and you point at Worick, who signs something to the shorter man that makes him grin. He climbs to his feet and pulls you over to the couch, where Worick has his arms open with a facial expression that resembles a child about to open a birthday present.

Nicolas makes short work of the towel, tossing it onto the floor as Worick pulls you into his arms. You settle in his lap, shifting a little as Nicolas pulls your hips up towards him, taking a seat on the edge of the couch. He wastes no time in getting back to work, lapping up your juices greedily before dragging his tongue back and up over the puckered ring of flesh.

You stiffen, gasping, and Worick catches the noise in the kiss, sliding one hand into your hair as the other finds its way between your legs, rubbing your clit in firm circles. You moan, digging your nails into his broad chest as he and Nick start bringing you rapidly close to climax.

Nicolas pulls back, spitting on the pink ring of flesh before coaxing his finger against it slowly. Worick feels you tense, murmuring reassuringly against your mouth as he presses his face against your neck. You close your eyes, feeling his stubble scrape against your skin as he sucks a bruise into the skin, fingers moving against your clit harder, faster.

When you come hard against Worick’s hand, dragging your nails down his chest with a soft cry, Nicolas takes the opportunity to slide his finger inside of you. He strokes your back as he eases it in and out, watching you for any sign of discomfort. But, you can barely focus on anything except the pleasure wracking your body.

Worick pulls his hand up, sucking the tips of his fingers clean with a low noise as he glances up at Nicolas, giving him a small nod.

“You’re so nice to let us share,” He purrs, reaching down and rucking down his pants enough to let his cock spring free, reaching down to tease your clit with the head. You whimper loudly, still sensitive, and look over your shoulder as fabric rustles behind you. Nick grins at you, almost animalistic, and strokes his hand along his freed cock before pushing it against your entrance.

They thrust into you at the same time and it feels, for a moment, like you’re being torn apart, your hands grabbing at Worick’s shoulders frantically. Nick’s calloused hands curl around your hips as he stills inside you, wanting to make sure you’re comfortable before moving again. You can hear him panting behind you; it’s taking everything for him to hold back.

“It’s okay…” You breathe, rocking your hips encouragingly, and it’s all the reassurance needed. Nicolas digs his blunt fingernails into your hips as he begins thrusting into you earnestly, deep, ragged sounds escaping his mouth that sound like they’re dragged up from deep in his chest. He’s so loud you’re sure the people outside can hear. Part of you hopes they do.

Worick’s eyes slide shut as he kisses you slowly, rocking his hips in time with Nick’s as he gets lost in the moment. So much of his job is about counting minutes and following a bullet pointed list of sexual acts that you love seeing him actually feel something genuine.

You slide your fingers through his hair, moans lost in each other’s mouths as time fully becomes lost between the three of you. It’s only when the movement of Nick’s hips stutters that you realize how much time has passed. He reaches down, grabbing your wrists and pulling your arms behind your back, changing the angle as he fucks you at a relentless pace, so close to the edge.

Worick takes full advantage of your newly presented body, closing his large hands around your tits with a hungry expression. His hands knead and squeeze, thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples as your back arches towards him. He hasn’t broken pace with Nicolas yet, both of them moving at a speed that’s almost punishing.

It’s Nicolas who comes first, slamming his hips hard against yours with a sound that would terrify a lesser person; a savage growl that’s music to your ears. He leans over and presses his face into your shoulder, rough sounds broken by his heavy panting against your skin.

“Come with me,” Worick pants, eyes fixed on yours as he angles his hips just so, hitting a place inside of you that has you seeing stars. You squeeze yourself around his cock in response and he groans thickly, smiling breathlessly at you.

“That’s my girl, come on, come…” He breathes, and you come almost embarrassingly on command, stiffening with a loud cry. He grits his teeth, burying himself deep inside you with a sharp snap of his hips, a hot rush as he fills you up.

Nicolas eases you down onto Worick’s chest before pulling out of you slowly, leaning forward to press a kiss to your temple before straightening up and tugging his sweats back on. He’s never been one to cuddle, and you won’t push him on it. You hold up the sign for ‘I love you’ and the tops of his ears go red, flashing the gesture almost sheepishly in return before walking to the fridge for a drink.

Worick makes up for the areas that Nicolas lacks—like the way he’s got himself wrapped around you right now. Personal space is always an afterthought for him.

“How do you feel now?” He asks, thumb brushing against your cheek.

You lean in, pressing a kiss against the scarred remains of his right eye with a smile.

_Pretty goddamn good._


End file.
